Hogsmeade Anthology
by MurasakiNeko
Summary: Based on Spoon River Anthology: A series of epitaphs of dead characters from throughout the series, telling their stories from beyond the grave, including Sirius, Regulus, the Riddles, & Frank Bryce (so far). Unfinished.
1. Sirius Black

Introduction

In 1914, Edgar Lee Masters published the unique "novel" Spoon River Anthology. It was the unusual story of a small American town, told through the eyes of the dead residents by means of their epitaphs- the phrases left on their tombstones.

I thought I would do a bit of a crossover and combine the epitaph style with J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter stories, telling the tale of the first (and the start of the second- and I will add on as the death toll heightens, as I'm pretty sure it will) war. The epitaphs of Death Eaters, Order of the Phoenix members, civilians, and Muggles alike will be presented.

The tone of Spoon River anthology is dark and rather pessimistic and bitter about life. I'm trying to emulate the style here (in other words, if I make Cedric sound spiteful or Sirius appear to have died due to some horrible tragic flaw he recognized, don't kill me, please!). Also, I tried to match birth and death months and years, and ages at death, as best as I could, but some are not really specified, so I made an educated guess.

Consider this one huge disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I am not Edgar Lee Masters. I just like both of their books and it is my pathetic hobby to combine the two.

***

SIRIUS BLACK

(December 1959-June 1996)

When I was fifteen, I became an Animagus,

And it is a well-known fact that

One's inner animal is chosen, not revealed.

I became a great black dog,

Manifesting my loyalty and determination.

It was my loyalty that drove me

To attempt to murder one not so loyal,

And it was my determination that drove me

To seek out the betrayed companion's son,

Surviving thirteen years of prison

And escaping barely, only for a moment

To see the boy that was left in my care.

To him, as his father, I was always loyal

And in fighting to save him, I was struck down

By my cousin- a member of my family:

The only thing I was ever disloyal to.


	2. Regulus Black

I do not own Spoon River Anthology or Harry Potter.

***

REGULUS BLACK

(August 1961-June 1980)

I was good at pleasing everyone.

I was always Mummy's favorite.

My father, mother, cousins, aunts, and uncles

Glowed over me, the golden son.

My teachers adored me; my coaches extolled me.

I was perfect, especially beside my failure brother.

I became heir when he ran away;

The weight of family honor rested fully on my shoulders.

I chose the quickest route to glory, 

Expecting to excel as Death Eater as I had all else.

Though Mummy praised me at first, 

She and Father soon grew worried of my path.

And I, never having been doubted before, began to doubt myself.

This displeased the Dark Lord, and I was killed.

I couldn't please everyone.


	3. Alphard Black

I do not own Spoon River Anthology or Harry Potter

***

ALPHARD BLACK

(May 1928-March 1977)

The Black family has always been strong.

"Toujours Pur"-- we were always bound by blood.

Since all my relations were of the fine blood,

I treated them all equally.

Yet character was not as evenly spread,

And those "not fit" to be Blacks, though they were kin,

Were ousted from the family.

I pitied my daughter Andromeda, my nephew Sirius,

For were they not, though a little odd, still Blacks?

When I died, I meant to repair the damage,

Giving each of them inheritance as if they had not gone.

Yet this was a trait "not fit" of a Black,

And as I was unable to defend myself, I too was ousted.


	4. Mrs Black

I do not own Spoon River Anthology or Harry Potter

***

MRS. BLACK

(February 1930-January 1985)

When raised in proper wizard society, 

The well-bred do not shout.

Anger must be masked, and spite must be cooled.

I held my opinions in, to keep my family's honor.

Yet society was on a downward slope.

The well-bred were being ignored.

Because I failed to make clear the right views,

My eldest son failed the family and went astray.

Even my youngest chose a more radical route,

Screaming for the old ways instead of exercising them.

When he and my husband died, I vowed

That my family and the old order

Would not go down without being heard.

I immortalized myself in print

And now all who enter my home

Shall hear the pain and wrath I feel

Knowing that the old ways are lost.


	5. Frank Bryce

FRANK BRYCE, a Muggle

(May 1921-June 1994)

I never believed in wizards.

Magic was silly, childhood stuff.

Perhaps I played along with this as a child,

But it was stomped from me earlier than most.

I left for war when I was still in my teens-

A child, in the eyes of most.

The rain of bombs and shots and bullets

Destroyed any remaining child in me.

I escaped alive by luck, not magic.

I returned from war a hardened man; 

Now children annoyed me with their magical games.

I chased them from the garden I attended,

Waving the stick that was meant to aid my bad leg.

I lived a hermit's life, until one day,

I found one had snuck into the abandoned house I watched.

I went in to chase the being out, only to find

That the baby that lay before me was all I had left behind:

Child and wizard- and this time I did not escape.


	6. Merope Gaunt Riddle

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology . . . or, in the case of this one, _Les Miserables_.

Oh, Merope . . . you were such a tragic figure-- like a sad mix between Fantine and Eponine. I had to replace your poem, I absolutely had to .. . any of you who read the old one are chuckling along with me

MEROPE GAUNT RIDDLE

(April 1909-December 1927)

There was a time when we had a name,

When our family was proud

And our means displayed it.

There was a time when love was a game,

And a witch girl could play,

And she might even win it.

Our love was brewed in different time,

With potion strong,

And charms abounding.

I had to love him with my eyes;

He never knew of my heart's pounding.

I was so young and dreamed of more;

My dream was brewed up from the ashes.

For once I evened up the score;

He took a sip, and love was fashioned.  
But our love was just a lie;

I could not keep him in such falsehood.

So I drained our lovers' brew–

And he drained his love for me.

I spent a year his loving mate;

A family, we were as one.

But he left me in such a state

That he never met his only son.

And still I dreamed he'd come to me

And he would learn to love me again,

But that dream, it could not be:

And so I drained the dream I brewed.

_((Okay-- I kind of cheated on this one . . . This is based on a song parody I wrote for Merope for a Les Miserables-based Half-Blood Prince musial I wrote. Hence, it is still my work, but not specifically for The Hogsmeade Anthology. Still, it was so fitting for her! Try singing along with it to "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables-- I adjusted it a little bit, but it still works pretty well!))_


	7. Tom Riddle, Sr

TOM RIDDLE (Voldemort's father)

(October 1908-August 1944)

My father always taught me

To never trust those who lived in darkness.

I met a girl who was cloaked in secret

And she won my heart in darkness,

Her past dark as the water

Within the pail from which I drank,

Offered to me with dark reason.

I married the my wife in the dark

And she deceived me so that we

Had born an heir before I knew.

My child was a halfling, my wife a witch,

Dark and ugly as the lies she wove.

I could not bear them and left then and there.

I never saw them again, until,

Through dark magic cunning learned through my wife,

The witch-baby returned, as dark as its mother.

He had been named for me- it was his mother's darkest spell-

So he sought me out and killed me--

And my father, who had always taught me

To never trust those who lived in darkness.


	8. Marlene McKinnon

I do not own Spoon River Anthology or Harry Potter

***

MARLENE MCKINNON

(May 1950-July 1977)

Around me lay my children.

Their graves are as fresh as mine.

A mother should never live to see her children die.

Though I mother, I was also a hero;

I strove for good in the world.

I longed to fight unchecked for my beliefs,

And strike evil dead with no regrets.

Often motherhood brings hindrance

To the ideals of youthful minds-

For me it was not the case.

I fought in the valiant Order,

Even as my husband reared my kin.

I did not fear for their security; 

It was only me in the fight.

I did not think that my enemy

Would consider pursuing my family, 

But he knew a mother's weakness,

And my family fell with me.

We all were honored as heros.

Yet though that was what I longed for,

I cannot say they felt the same.

For who knows of a baby girl,

Or boy scarce old enough to hold a wand

That has ever dreamt of fighting evil

And dying in the name of good?


	9. Dorcas Meadowes

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

DORCAS MEADOWES

(March 1952-April 1979)

I was the scourge of Death Eaters.

I was the most wanted, the prize.

None could match my skillful wand,

And I was the hero of my day.

I let on that I was never afraid,

Yet deep down so far I knew:

Death Eaters did not scare me

Because they were still human.

Their leader was a thing of evil,

Of unnaturalness and inhumanity.

I did not face him for I feared him.

Yet this could not go unnoticed, and,

The haunt of my dreams and fears,

Finally stopped sending minions,

And came after me himself.


	10. Caradoc Dearborn

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

CARADOC DEARBORN

(January 1949-presumed dead December 1977)

Like many I wanted to be the hero.

Even in death, I would seek valor.

While spilling blood, I planned to proclaim

My creed and my mission, downed like a martyr.

I planned out elaborate deaths,

Knowing exactly how to fall, to speak, to lie;

Rehearsing the pinnacle scene.

I didn't expect, when I went for that walk,

That I would end up attacked, but I was.

I was not killed on the spot, but taken away,

My death hidden from all public view.

I did not get to speak my parting words;

I did not proudly go down.

I was never found; my body remains

Thrown in a ditch, dead of starvation.

Where was my grand martyr's death?

I died for a cause, but no one heard.


	11. Lily Evans Potter

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

LILY EVANS POTTER

(April 1960-October 1981)

It is a honor, to bear a son

Who is predestined for great things.

Yet in a way it smarts the soul.

The power that lies in an infant

Never seems substantial enough.

A mother cannot bear to face it.

It is a pity, to bear a son

Whose destiny the mother shall not see.

Yet I know that through my sacrifice

I spared many lives by taking one.

I shall not complain; I know my worth;

It was my purpose to die for this.

Yet to a mother it seems so cruel

To leave the child all alone.

I died to save his infant life;

Never knowing if he won.


	12. James Potter

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

(Yeah, I don't like this one so much; it rhymes and it seems cheesy. I probably will redo it. Unless somebody thinks it's awesome or something. Go ahead and tell me either way, if you want.)

JAMES POTTER

(August 1959-October 1981)

The well-known are always friendless;

Friends to the top are merely admirers.

Yet I thought that I had found exception

In my three school companions.

They protected me from jealousy

And comforted me in pain.

They did not adore my illusion

Or forsake me when I fell.

As rocks that are thrown higher

Have more momentum as they fall,

The same goes for high friendships

That do not fare so well.

One of my closest friends,

He dropped as such a rock.

I fell and was quite broken;

He was near me only to be on top.


	13. Quirinius Quirrell

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

QUIRINIUS QUIRRELL

(March 1968-June 1992)

I was an intellectual,

Searching for life's answers.

Callow-minded, yet hungry,

Unable to find what I sought in books

I traveled my own Odyssey,

And was taken in.

My youthful mind with its vigor and revolt

Clung to the mystique of my new teacher.

Once open-minded, I was now quite closed,

Unable to release myself from what

I had once assumed to be perfection.

In the end it killed me, though I had long been dead.

Because I was too open, my soul had been devoured.

Oh intellectuals! Take heed!

Let not open-mindedness allow you to accept

What may one day be your destruction!


	14. Bartemius Crouch, Jr The False Grave

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

BARTEMIUS CROUCH, JR., A False Grave (really his mother's)

(June 1963-March 1981)

Father cared not enough.

As a child, he ignored me; as adults we fought.

Father cared not enough to even notice

When I was made a Slytherin, like those of his foes.

When I came home from holidays, I misbehaved,

Hoping desperately that bad attention was better than none.

Having no love, the most I could hope for was hate.

Father cared not even then.

He saw not the warnings, the threats, or my path.

He busied himself with those far from him,

Never suspecting I had become his deepest foe.

When it was too late; when all was out,

Father cared only enough to give me a trial-

Yet not nearly enough to forgive me.

It was no matter; I expected not from him.

At last I had found his attention, his hate-

For I realized that was the only attention he gave,

Man incapable of love.

I repaid him with downfall, seeking my revenge,

My days of negligence were now his.

Yet I too paid a dear price: death.

Father cared not enough to even come for my body.

So now he lives with negligence and raw truth:

Father cared not enough to even ensure

That it is truly me that lies here.


	15. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

I do not own Harry Potter or Spoon River Anthology.

ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE

(MAY 1845-JUNE 1947)

"A noble spirit with a heart of gold:

The Order Merlin and Supreme Mugwump;

A kind old man with wisdom ages old,

And whims that do the common people stump."

So glorified shall be my lengthy years

Of teaching, leading, fighting for my cause;

My absence may bring on some bouts of tears,

And thus in grief you all forget my flaws.

Remember what I told you all of love,

And trusting in redemption of all men.

Spend not your time in tears resulting of

These speeches that tell merely what has been.

For still I think I say it better when I speak,

In brief, of "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"


End file.
